I’ve been having vivid nightmares lately, and they have a theme: I’m out somewhere, and suddenly someone is threatening me. Last week, I was pushing a baby carriage in a place that wasn’t familiar. It was nighttime, and I was walking next to a hotel. A man passed me and I knew he intended to hurt me, the way you know things in a dream.

I picked up my pace and glanced up at the hotel to see if anyone was on any of the balconies, but they were empty. I looked over my shoulder, and sure enough, the man had paused. When we made eye contact he started running toward me, eyes wild. I screamed. I screamed so loudly I woke my dog.

Last night I had a similar dream. I was in some kind of village, but everyone was dressed like it was Colonial times. It’s my subconscious, what can I tell you? There was a furious woman chasing me. I ducked into a store. There were rows of bookshelves almost to the ceiling, there was a huge, empty birdcage for sale in a corner, there were umbrellas in a stand — more likely parasols if I was dreaming realistically — or so Google tells me.

I ducked behind one of the huge shelves, and peeked around the corner in time to see the woman come bounding through the doors. She knew exactly where I was.

I understood she intended to kill me, I didn’t know why. I looked down and realized I had a pole in my hands, so held it up and yelled at her to stay away from me! Woke the dog, again.

You don’t have to be an oneirologist to catch the drift. I’m feeling vulnerable, like there are threats coming from every side. The baby carriage represents, no doubt, some feeling I have that I can’t keep my kids safe. No one being on the balconies is the disappointment I feel in people who are going about their lives as though everything is normal. Finding myself in Colonial America is (almost) hilarious. I have to give my subconscious an A+ for use of metaphor. Maybe tonight I’ll dream of Joan of Arc.

On the plus side, the moment I open my mouth to yell, I yell. This is new. For most of my adult life, if I have a nightmare and want to scream, no sound comes out. This is a terrible feeling, whether you’re awake or asleep. The feeling of being in imminent danger and wanting to call for help, only to find you cannot make a sound? I take it as a positive change that now when I go to scream in my dream, I scream in real life — it took me years but I have finally found my voice. Perhaps not a positive development for the dog, but I like to think I make it up to him in a million other ways.

There are good reasons to have some hope. Liam Conejo Ramos and his father are home. I take this as the most tangible and joy-affirming evidence that our loud, unwavering refusal to accept the inhumanity and lawlessness of this administration — works. It might not work as quickly as we’d like, but it works — and so does our judicial system, some of the time.

Democratic U.S. Representative from Texas Joaquin Castro has been working tirelessly on their release. He went to Dilley Detention Center to meet with Liam and his dad Adrian while they were detained. He traveled with them from Texas back to Minnesota. Their attorney, Mark Prokosch, is continuing to represent them. There is a gofundme for Liam and his family if you are able to contribute any amount, it’s going to be a long road.

There are judges like the Honorable U.S. District Judge Fred Biery. In his Opinion and Order granting a Writ of Release to Liam and his father, he did not hold back. I encourage you to read his Opinion in full, and I propose we call him Fiery Biery from this day forward.

Yes, “Biery” is pronounce “beer” “ee” and no, I don’t care. Here is just a taste:

“Observing human behavior confirms that for some among us the perfidious lust for unbridled power, and the imposition of cruelty in its quest, know no bounds and are bereft of human decency. And the rule of law be damned.”

We shall see what happens with the DHS bill. The Epstein files are horrific. There’s too much coming at us every day, and no one can keep up, which is the point. It seems 37% of our population is still supporting this administration for reasons that boggle the mind. They seem to feel fine if the Constitution guarantees their rights, but no one else’s — certainly not liberals, immigrants, Black or brown people, or anyone in the LGBTQ community — and also most women, generally. Maybe they’d make an exception for a few people they know, but probably not.

Here is a funny thing about strangers. When we walk out the door in the morning, we’re all strangers to most of the people we encounter. We don’t know a thing about them — what they’ve been through, what they’re going through right now, what keeps them up at night. If you crossed paths with either of my children today, it’s likely you would not know they are mine — but they mean everything to me, and I hope with my entire heart that you would treat them the way I would treat your most precious people if we met somewhere, somehow.

We all need a kind stranger sometimes. How this is confusing to anyone is beyond me. The smug confidence that allows a person to “other” someone else is one of the most painful forms of ignorance I’ve seen in my lifetime. These are the people who believe in God and call themselves Christian, too. If that’s your worldview, aren’t these God’s children you’re “othering”? I don’t know, but I would think God is going to have some words for you at the Pearly Gates before you head elsewhere. You might want to slow down with the laughing emojis — just a thought.

There’s no such thing as other people’s children. We all belong to each other, and to the world.

Sending you a lot of love, friends. Keep at it. Love always wins in the end.

Come As You Are is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

We don’t even get a day to recover anymore, which is the plan and the point. They want to exhaust people like you and me, people who are heartbroken, scared and furious — so we become overwhelmed beyond comprehension, and stop raging. I don’t know what they think. Maybe they imagine we won’t post videos anymore, we’ll stop talking to one another, stop protesting.

This is how an organized crime gang would behave if they moved into a neighborhood and wanted to make sure we understood they were in charge now. They’d let one of their own murder a mother of three in cold blood, and not worry about the videos with the five different angles, the slow motion renderings, the 3D models. They’d block local law enforcement from the scene, tamper with evidence, and allow the killer to walk free. They’d hide him, even.

They’d send a puppy-executioner to tell a fictional, insulting tale about what happened, without even bothering to get the glaring facts right.

Later, when the autopsy results showed she had a pulse for eight long minutes while her wife sat on the ground, sobbing into their dog — eight minutes they refused to allow a doctor to check on her — they’d just shrug.

Then they’d sit back and laugh, watching their zombie-apocalypse-followers repeat the party line.

Before we could wrap our heads around that, we’d see photos of a sweet, tiny boy in a light blue bunny hat being loaded into an ICE vehicle, a giant gloved hand on his back. They’d lie about that, too. They’d say his dad was here illegally, his whole family was — and not worry about the fact that it isn’t true. Because facts don’t matter, and they know it. They can just say a thing is true. I don’t even think their followers believe it — they understand the game.

Daddy tells you what he wants you to say, or he sends Noem, Miller, Hegseth, Leavitt, or Vance to do his bidding. It doesn’t matter, they all spit venom the same, and you take your orders like a good soldier. Yes, Daddy. Understood, Daddy. We’ll go drive those left-wing liberals crazy, Daddy, hahahaha. Will you make us another AI video shitting on them later as a treat?

Then they get on the internet and say black is white or wrong is right or good is bad or these people are getting what they deserve and soon America will be white again — like it or not you woke-ass whiners, why don’t you just leave if you hate it here so much?

I don’t know to what degree you have to hate yourself to give your blind loyalty to a man who would step directly onto your head if it was in his way, but it must be a lot. I guess the rage must run so deep, you can look at an innocent little boy who is surely traumatized by now — and feel nothing — and be willing to make up stories about his family so you can laugh at devastated strangers on the internet.

You can say it was his dad who abandoned him, or that his mother wouldn’t open the door and that’s why this happened, and what were these kindhearted, patriotic ICE agents supposed to do? Drive away and leave him on the doorstep with his mom right on the other side of the front door, begging them to do exactly that, while her husband screamed at her not to open the door — because if she did, they’d take her, too — and then who would be there when their middle school tween got home?

You can watch a man shoot a woman in the face three times because of his teeny, weeny, peeny ego, and side with him, and feel not even a flicker of sadness for her, for her three children, for her wife, her parents, or her dog. You just don’t care. She should have stayed home, like you. She shouldn’t have given a crap about her neighbors, then she’d be alive.

How about now, I wonder? Alex Pretti is getting dangerously close to someone you’d almost like, minus the liberalism and caring about your neighbors part. He was all heart and courage and kindness, so nothing like you, but you catch my drift. If you’d passed him on a hiking trail, you might not have been sure. He’ll never go hiking again, though. Tall, young, white, thirty-seven-year-old lawful gun-owner with a permit to carry. Totally legal in Minnesota. So now what. Now they’ve executed a white man who believed in the Second Amendment.

It doesn’t matter, though. These folks will play whatever game their Daddy wants. A couple of weeks ago they were screaming that Renee Nicole Good should have stayed home, minding her own business. Then she’d be alive. Same people who have no problem that Kyle Rittenhouse drove twenty miles to go to a protest and involve himself in other people’s business. Hypocrisy runs through their veins in place of blood, it’s how it is.

Today, a lot of these people were screaming that Alex Pretti put his hands on federal agents and then went for his gun — but he absolutely did not. This is getting so old and tired. This is a painful and horrifying execution, so do not watch unless you have the resources to do that right now, or feel the need to see for yourself. He was there filming. An ICE agent initiated contact with him, starting pushing him back toward the sidewalk. Then another woman, also filming, had a chemical agent sprayed directly into her face. Alex went to help her. He’s a registered nurse. He works at the VA hospital in MN, has for ten years. Everyone there loves him. Everyone there loved him.

He was always helping people, always kind. He’s been protesting since Renee Good, he talked to his parents about it a couple of weeks ago. They told him to be careful, and he promised them he would, said he wouldn’t do anything but observe. They are heartbroken, obviously, but they are also furious.

When they pepper-sprayed the woman, Alex went to help. He put his body between her and the agent. He said, “It’s okay!” attempting to de-escalate, a thing ICE agents are supposed to do but definitely 100% do not do. He also asked if she was okay. Then they sprayed him in the face. You can kill people like that. Then five or six guys tackled him. His hands were on the ground the entire time, likely because he couldn’t see.

They beat him, and one of the agents took Alex’s gun out of his holster — you can see that happen in the video. Alex Pretti was not just incapacitated when they executed him, but also unarmed. Then one of the thugs shot him, multiple times. They executed him. At no time did he reach for his gun. At no time did he threaten the agents.

If a single Democrat senator funds this DHS bill, that needs to be the end of their career. We need to vote out anyone who continues to participate in the war our government is waging against its own people. They’re killing us in the streets. Their supporters will be with them till the end if they’re still with them now, so stop wasting your energy fighting with people who want to pretend up is down.

We need our energy to keep each other safe, any way we can. If you’re here in the states and you haven’t been doing anything proactive, if you thought this might pass you by, if you don’t like to “be political” — non-participation is not an option anymore. Truly, it is not. It hasn’t been. Please find a way to help.

The incredible Wyrd Sister made two versions of the Renee Good t-shirts from my little protest sign. They’re so great. All the proceeds after cost go to either the ACLU (always doing incredible work to fight this administration at every turn):

https://wyrdshirts.threadless.com/designs/just-another

or the National Queer and Trans Therapists of Color Network:

https://wyrdshirts.threadless.com/designs/just-another-trans-version

Sending you so much love. I am angry, I am heartbroken, I am so horrified by people who are still supporting this — but I am not without hope. There are more of us. There are more of us, I promise you. We have so much heart. We have not lost our way. We have not lost our souls. It is scary, but we have each other.

Meet you in the comments if you need a little love.

Come As You Are is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Thank you for being here. These are scary times, and community is everything. I love you and I am sending hugs. I’m a mom, it’s part of the gig xo

This week’s episode is about men who hate women and the women who love them. It’s about people (mostly men) screaming at me in all caps that the division and violence in our country is due to rhetoric from “radical left lunatics” like me — and not because we’ve reached a point where 30% of the people in our country would not care if I got shot in the face three times for worrying about my neighbors.

They would shrug and say I should have thought about my kids, stayed home, and minded my own business — then I’d still be alive. That’s what they said about Renee Good. That’s what they’re saying about women who are trying to take care of their communities. We’re the problem. What a shock.

These are MAGA men, and the women who support them, and I got a very unpleasant taste of the way they think under an essay I wrote recently. There was no room to talk about violations of the Fourth, Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments, no willingness to look at actual examples of ICE agents grabbing people from their legal immigration appointments, rappelling out of a helicopter and into a building in Chicago, busting down doors without a warrant anywhere in sight. No ability to talk about children zip-tied and thrown into the backs of U-hauls, some of them U.S. citizens. No conversation about the ways this has been happening for a year.

They just wanted to scream at me.

People are filming ICE raids for a reason. Nonviolent protest and civil disobedience are as old as Jesus Christ, as any Christian who read the Bible would tell you. So is state-sanctioned murder. Rosa Parks was protesting and committing an act of civil disobedience when she refused to give up her seat on the bus. Should she have stayed home, minding her own business?

People filming ICE agents are not trying to impede or harass anyone, they’re trying to keep their neighbors safe, and they are thinking about their children. They’re thinking about what kind of world they’re going to inherit if we’re going to allow a Mad King to overtake our democracy.

Greenland and every NATO country is looking at us in shock, horror, and utter despair. Anyone who loves this country ought to feel the same. Men who hate women should never be in power. They are violent and they do not understand consent. Not when it comes to women and girls, not when it comes to countries who do not want to be owned by us.

Renee Good should still be here. She would be if an angry man with a gun hadn’t decided to defend his fragile ego because two queer women were too relaxed for his liking, not impressed by him, not intimidated. There’s no such thing as “toxic empathy” — there’s just empathy, and you have it, or you don’t.

There is such a thing as toxic masculinity, though, and it sounds like calling someone a “f*****g b***h” after you shoot her in the face three times.

All this and more on the pod.

Grateful for the men who like and respect women (because, duh), grateful for the people who care about their neighbors, all of them. Stay safe out there as best you can. We love you, Minneapolis. And always grateful for the fantastic, brilliant, strong women in my life — and all women and girls of every background everywhere. Don’t let the b******s get you down.

Sending you love.

Come As You Are is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

This week’s podcast episode is full of heartbreak and fury. It’s about Venezuela, Greenland, Colombia, Cuba, and Canada. It includes The Monroe Doctrine, The Roosevelt Corollary, the Authorized Use of Military Force, a screeching Stephen Miller, and an administration with no qualms about doing/taking/killing what it wants — ethics, decency, truth, and the Constitution be damned. It’s about January 6th, five years ago, and how we should have stopped this, then.

Most of all, though, it’s about Renee Nicole Good, which means it’s about all of us.

I feel sick and have for days. Pretty sure I’m afflicted with toxic shock syndrome, but not the kind we’ve been warned about. I sent my essay out into the ether last week as I do every week. There is one platform where I have a business page with a lot of people (fb) that used to be a place where community happened, where people could have conversations and even disagree without losing their minds, but that is no longer the case. I don’t spend a lot of time there anymore, I simply have the page connected to my other meta account (insta), so when I post on one, it shows up on the other.

I started getting alerts from fb quickly. Some of the comments in the thread underneath were so lacking in empathy they made me feel sick in my soul, as if I was talking to people who had been infected by a virus that caused contempt to run through their veins.

We’ve reached a point in our country where the people who did not vote for this president cannot have meaningful conversations with people who are in support of the current administration — and in my case, it is not for lack of trying. I have tried. I tried again this week. I keep trying because I don’t know how we fix things if we can’t talk to each other, but the vitriol and smug disdain coming from the 30% of the country who voted for this and are still in support of it — toward people like me who are devastated by what is happening, is breathtaking and horrifying.

Truly, y’all are not okay. One man called my business number to say I should not block people. I blocked people who were screaming expletives at me, or hurling insults. Imagine being so entitled you call a woman’s business line because you’re butt-hurt she won’t allow people to be abusive to her on her own damn page. Get a grip, sir.

It is legal and a First Amendment right to film ICE raids occurring in public places, and if you don’t understand why concerned citizens are doing that, then you have not been paying attention to what is happening at many of these ICE raids, or you do not care. The second option would be worse.

As a small example, Kristi Noem described what happened to Renee Good two hours after she was murdered — like this: She said ICE agents were “snowed in” and “surrounded by angry rioters” and Renee was “ramming her vehicle into them” and the ICE agent was in fear for his life and the lives of the other agents, so he shot her.

Then you look at the footage of all the people who were there filming, and thank god they were, because that is not. what. happened. That’s why people go and film, so there’s a record. They are not there to impede, they are there to bear witness and to make sure there’s accurate documentation of what occurs. In too many instances, ICE agents are using excessive force, they don’t identify themselves, and they refuse to say where they’re taking people.

Sometimes it’s the people observing who de-escalate a situation, by making sure the ICE agents know they’re being filmed. People are grabbed so quickly they don’t have a chance to call anyone, so they might yell out the name and number of their mom, their wife, their attorney.

There were no “angry rioters” on the block where Renee and Becca Good were parked, a few blocks from their house — there were neighbors, filming and observing. Why? Because immigrants in our country are also entitled to due process under the law and some people care about that. There are a lot of hard-working, tax-paying immigrants in our community, mothers and fathers, grandmas and grandpas, people who have been here for decades, many of whom have been doing it “the right way.” Sometimes they get grabbed directly from their legal immigration appointments.

No one is being paid to care about their neighbors or their communities. People are not being “trained to weaponize their vehicles.” Left-leaning people do not want hardened criminals walking around their neighborhoods, that’s a lie. It is really something being yelled at about law and order from people supporting an administration that violates the Constitution every day. The gaslighting and hypocrisy are exhausting.

It was made very clear to me that there were people in the comments on fb who would not shed a tear or have a kind thought for my children if I was filming an ICE raid to try to help my neighbors, and an agent decided to shoot me in the face three times. They would shrug and say, she got what she deserved. Why wasn’t she home, minding her own business? Why didn’t she think about her children? The thing is, when I worry about my neighbors, that’s part of thinking about my children, and what kind of world they’re going to inherit.

There are ICE agents going door-to-door in Minneapolis today. There are videos of ICE agents tackling two seventeen-year-old kids who work at a Target in Minneapolis, inside the vestibule of the store, violently. Turns out they were both U.S. citizens, which they said. One had his hand broken by those agents. One called out his mother’s phone number. If there’s any confusion about why people film, I sure hope this clears it up.

A woman was murdered on Wednesday, by a man who got angry. He called her a “f*****g b***h” seconds after he ended her life. He was never off his feet. He did not have to stand where he did, trying to block her so his buddy could yank her door open. One agent told her to leave, one agent screamed at her to get the f**k out of her car. Her wife told her to drive, baby, drive. I would have fled, too. You know why? I’ve had enough experiences in my life with violent men to know when I’m unsafe. She backed up. She turned her wheels all the way to the right. He took her life because he was pissed. Men like that do not like non-compliant females.

Renee Nicole Good was a mother of three, a wife, a poet, a daughter, and a very good neighbor by all accounts. She should still be here.

Friends, a quick hello on Day 3 of this new year, or Day 4 if you get this Sunday morning. We will not be counting the days of this year generally, just these first few because it’s wild that it’s only Day 3 and … yeah. There are some new people in the mix and in our midst, so I want to welcome you all with a lot of love, and thank you so much for being here.

Also, I want to let you know I do a podcast every week, after the essay, and after I’ve had time to meet you in the comments section — which is one of my favorite places to be. Often I’ve had time to ponder further based on what you’ve shared, so I think about the podcast as a co-creation and a conversation we’re having. I may eventually move it to the app so we can see each other in real time if you’re around while I record. I genuinely treasure getting to know you. That will become clear if it isn’t already.

Maybe you like podcasts, maybe not. There are a few I love, but I only have time to listen if I’m driving somewhere, so I get it. We are all inundated. But, maybe you do a lot of driving, or maybe you like a voice in the background while you’re folding laundry. Fair warning, I cry during episodes possibly more than most people with podcasts. I cry easily these days and have since my mother died. Maybe it’s grief, maybe it’s hormones, maybe it’s being relatively sane in a world that is heartbreaking too much of the time.

Okay, thus ends this session of hello and podcasting with Ally, thanks for coming. Now we can talk about this particular episode and also how unhinged the president is. Fantastic.

Why not end the longest year ever with back-to-back trips to the Social Security Office and the DMV? How could you have a car registered to your name, but the wrong VIN number attached — for four years? Why isn’t there an opt-out button that triggers a trap-door with a fun slide that takes people directly to a grown-up sleep-away camp where we could all go when the world feels like too much?

I dug into all those questions and more in this episode about why some of us struggled mightily in 2025. The discussion includes love of the Constitution, the three branches of government, our checks and balances, the Supreme Court, and the free press…and the heartbreak of watching all of those guardrails of our democracy fail one by one, simultaneously.

The biggest heartbreak of all was the collusion required for that to happen. Feel as you may about the Founding Fathers, I think it’s safe to assume they never imagined a world where so many Americans would pledge fealty to a man so lacking in ethics and morals, betraying the country they claim to love and the Constitution they swore to uphold.

I talked about due process, ICE raids, the attack on DEI, the LGBTQ community, women’s rights, the increase in the number of abortions since Roe was overturned, the increase in maternal and infant mortality rates in states with restrictive abortion bans, the hypocrisy of causing people grave harm with no compassion or empathy in the name of Christianity. Those are just a few reasons some of us had a hard time last year.

And here on day 3…it looks like we’ll have plenty to deal with in 2026.

(Side note, it’s not a new thing for America to decide it’s time for a regime change somewhere in Latin America. Some of you are young, so maybe it’s your first time witnessing a president decide he doesn’t need congressional approval to kidnap a dictator in the dead of night, but I am old enough to remember George H.W. Bush doing this very thing in 1989. See: Noriega!

We’ll get back to this because there’s so much to unpack. The Monroe Doctrine, The Roosevelt Corollary, The War Powers Resolution, and the Authorized Use of Military Force, just to get us started.

But if you think two things can’t be true at once, for example —

Maduro was terrible for the people of Venezuela, and in the simplest of terms he is a not a good man and,

it is an abuse of power and a terrible idea to use military force to oust dictators/overthrow governments from countries with resources we want, and then “take them over” with no plan except “we want their oil”

I’d say you might want to think again.)

Anyhoo, friends, we’re off to a wild, destabilizing start, but that’s how this “peace president” — the one who wasn’t going to get us into any more foreign wars — likes and wants it. Someone pass the FIFA peace pipe I guess. My heart goes out to the family members of civilians who died in Venezuela last night, and those who are scared for their loved ones. It goes out to the family members of our military who are being led by a president who has no qualms about making it known we are there for the oil and there is no clear strategy beyond that.

It goes out to anyone who wonders how we are supposed to do this for another three years. One hint: don’t do that to yourself. Take it one day at a time. Take it one step at a time, one phone call, one email, one kind word, one supportive text, one hilarious meme, one thoughtful card, one chance to let someone merge, one moment to catch your breath, one afternoon to slow down, one walk to notice the sun is shining, one conversation with someone who understands, one opportunity to make the world a little bit better…at a time. That’s how we do it, and we do it together.

5calls.org makes it easy to let your reps know how you feel, and please do call. Deep breath in, hold for the count of seven. Deep breath out for the count of eight. Repeat. Love y’all.

Since it’s a new year, maybe it’s a good time to mention you can go into your settings and set things up so you only get essays and podcasts in the app — that’s a general Substack thing, did you know that? You don’t have to get emails sent to your inbox unless you want them. If that’s exciting to you or if it’s news to you, I’ll take you through it.

From your laptop, click on your picture or avatar in the upper right corner, then click on Settings:

As the holidays approached this year, I started seeing a lot of people in my feeds expressing the desire to “quiet quit” the whole endeavor. People wondering if they could opt out, not have the big extended family dinner, get a “Charlie Brown” Christmas tree, stay in pajamas. I saw this across all holidays — whatever people normally do around whatever holidays they celebrate, they wanted to do the easiest, most stress-free version.

For some people it was financial, they did not have the means to buy presents and go to parties, they didn’t want to show up empty-handed or have to explain that times are tough and they’re saving for health insurance. For others it felt too forced to try to pull joy out of the hat in the midst of so much suffering and mental exhaustion.

If you’re someone who voted for (gestures wildly and unfathomably) this painful mess we’re in, maybe the holidays were great for you? For those of us who never wanted any of this cruelty, and could not imagine voting for a president who said people were eating cats and dogs, or — you know what? the list of things this man has said and done is so insane, and each one of them should have disqualified him, so — for those of us he called members of the “radical left scum” as part of his lovely Christmas Day message, let us say we had to dig deep to find the holiday cheer.

As we approach the end of this fever dream of a year and head toward 2026, I am thinking about the things that are and have been heartbreaking and exhausting, and also the reasons I have hope, and know in my heart we are going to be okay.

I know we are.

If you have also had a very hard time this year, if you’re tired of the insanity and don’t know how we’re going to get through it for another three years, I’ll tell you how: we’re going to get through it together. We’re going to remember we are all neighbors. Those of us who are likeminded are going to show up for each other in every way we can. We’re going to be the helpers.

“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”

―Fred Rogers

Happy New Year, friends. Or, “Here comes a New Year!” if that feels more apropos for now. I am so grateful to head into this next year with you.

Voiceover by the fantastic Andi Arndt

I went to see It’s a Wonderful Life on Christmas Eve — they play it on the big screen at a theater near us every year — and if that film fails to put you in the holiday spirit you probably have to give up for the season and try again next year. It’s a strange year for all the reasons, so I think there are a lot of us trying. I love Jimmy Stewart. One of his other films, Harvey, is one of my favorite films of all time. If you haven’t seen it, Stewart plays a man named Elwood P. Dowd whose best friend is a huge white rabbit named Harvey who no one else can see.

Jimmy Stewart loved the film, too. He loved playing Elwood, a man with no guile who was kind to everyone, and he loved Harvey so much that he doodled him on napkins and scraps of paper for the rest of his life. He’d write “Harvey” underneath, and sign them. One year for my birthday, one of my best friends got me a framed print of one of those doodles. I’m not a shopper, I don’t go in for jewelry or handbags or fancy dinners out, but that doodle is one of my prized possessions. Also, I can’t recommend the film enough if you want to feel good about human beings for a little while, which I always do. I want to feel good about human beings now more than I ever have.

I grew up watching Mr. Rogers Neighborhood, and sometimes I think we should all start watching episodes again. My mother could never understand my obsession, she thought the show was so boring. This middle-aged man coming through the door singing about how we’re all neighbors, and asking if I’d be his neighbor, too? Unhurriedly taking off his jacket or raincoat and hanging it up, putting on his cardigan, then swapping his outside shoes for sneakers and tying them while he talked about nothing in particular? For the life of her, she could not figure out why I was rapt at four years old, five years old, six years old. I loved him.

We all did as far as I know, I rarely meet any Gen Xer who didn’t grow up feeling like they were partially raised by Fred Rogers. Most of us had parents who needed to be reminded we existed at 10pm, and there he was, taking us on little field trips to learn about the Post Office, or teaching us to think about how things were for other people. Elwood P. Dowd is like Fred Rogers, except he likes to go to the bar. There are all kinds of theories about the film and why he’s seeing a huge white rabbit (a púca). I won’t ruin it for you if you haven’t seen it, I’ll just say I think Harvey is real because that’s what I choose to think — in the context of the entire thing being a film where everyone is a fictional character, of course. I’m not insane.

People believe all kinds of things because that’s what they choose to do. I saw a clip on Instagram of Mary and Joseph in couples’ counseling. Joseph was upset because he was feeling erased. Mary said it wasn’t her fault, the Angel Gabriel showed up and said she was pregnant with God’s baby, what was she supposed to do? Joseph said he was just a blip in their story now. Just a sheepherder, shoveling s**t all day. If someone ever wrote a book about them — at which point Mary interrupted and said no one was ever going to write a book about them — and I snort-laughed my coffee everywhere.

Once about fifteen years ago the same friend who got me the Harvey doodle came to Los Angeles for a visit. We decided to go see a movie at The Grove, we just drove over after a class I taught to see what was playing next. The Passion of the Christ was the only film about to start. This was before everyone knew Mel Gibson was a wife-beating racist, mind you.

We asked the woman behind the counter if she’d seen it, and if it was good. “Yes,” she said solemnly, “it’s really good. It’s about the last twenty-four hours of Jesus’ life. It’s a cinematic documentary.” I’m not sure how long we stood there staring at her, trying to figure out if she was serious, but it was long enough to realize she was serious.

Many people who identify as Christian and therefore believe in Jesus say they voted for the current administration because they believe abortion is murder so they had to vote for this administration*…but they do not seem to realize this administration would deport Jesus himself and Mary and Joseph, too, if they showed up in the United States today. Brown people from the largest Arab city in Israel who had their baby in Palestine and then walked forty miles to Egypt before emigrating? Without papers? Jesus Christ, good luck and I mean that.

Also just because I have to, even though I’ve said it eleventy bajillion times:

*The number of abortions has risen and continues to rise since Roe was overturned — a thing conservatives said would never happen, but we all knew would happen. Then they said, well it’s okay, we’re just sending it back to the states! This is what happens when you send it back to the states. Maternal and infant mortality rates rise in states with the most restrictive abortion bans. Women who have the means, travel to other states to get lifesaving healthcare when they need it. More women use telehealth services.

The president takes credit for the overturning of Roe, so it stands to reason he would also take credit for the rise in abortions, as he should. If you voted for him, you voted for that, too, even if you did not mean to do that. If you believe abortion is murder and you want fewer abortions, you should be voting against restrictive abortion bans that endanger girls and women, which means you should be voting for people who are pro-choice.

Pro-choice is not pro-abortion, it is pro respecting women and girls. It is pro believing all human beings are deserving of the same rights and respect when it comes to bodily autonomy and lifesaving healthcare procedures. It is pro thinking your rights should not change every time you cross state lines. My son’s rights don’t change if we take a road trip across the country, why should my daughter’s? Why any woman votes against her own best interests, or the best interests of her daughters, sisters, mothers and friends is a thing we should all ponder.

Also, if you believe in Jesus in any capacity —

whether you believe he is literally the son of God (and you believe in the Immaculate Conception like my friend at The Grove),

or you believe the Bible was written by men trying to control society at large,

if you believe men wrote the Bible to take the power of creation away from women — and give it to an all-powerful man in the sky no one can see,

or you believe there was a flesh-and-blood guy named Jesus who was a peace activist who walked this earth and did a lot of good,

if you believe we are all children of God, but you don’t think God is some white be-robed and bearded man in the sky with a ledger and a penchant for deducting points if people play with themselves while the world burns — if instead you think of God as the energy of creation and Jesus as an allegory and an aspiration, and neither as gendered (oh I know it’s tough for some people to give that up!) —

Whatever you believe, from everything I have ever understood, Jesus’s entire purpose was to spread compassion and kindness.

If I’ve got that part right, he would not have appreciated a message in his name written by the political leader of our nation calling the half of us who did not vote for him “radical left scum” on Christmas Day, or any day. He would not approve of a president who openly admitted to grabbing women by the pussy. He would not support a man who mocked Serge Kovaleski — or anyone suffering from any congenital condition, disease, or affliction of any kind, because who does that? What kind of person does that, and why would anyone vote for him?

He would not approve of a man who spent fifteen years hanging out with the most infamous and despicable pedophile rapist and his pedophile rapist girlfriend, calling him a “terrific guy”, laughing with him at parties, celebrating birthdays and holidays together, flying on his plane and lying about it later, inexplicably getting his girlfriend a sweetheart deal a few months ago, so she is now in a prison camp in Texas instead of behind bars for twenty years where she belonged. Why would he do that, and why would anyone support it?

He would not have approved of a president who called female journalists “piggy” and “stupid” and “terrible people” for doing their jobs. He would not have approved of a childish, petty, violent, racist, misogynistic president who turned the White House garish gold because there is definitely something about a camel and the eye of a needle. Which means he would have been appalled to learn the Trumps have pocketed $1.8 billion in cash and gifts since his re-election in 2024.

This is not a man who cares about anyone’s grocery prices or healthcare. He’s no “man of the people.” He is working “outside the lines” in Washington, for himself and his billionaire buddies.

Of the Ten Commandments, there are at least five that seem glaringly problematic for the current occupant of the White House and all his cohorts:

Thou shall not kill. Oops.

Thou shall not commit adultery. Bwahahahaha.

Thou shall not steal. Dang. Points deducted!

Thou shall not bear false witness against thy neighbor. Lol.

Thou shall not covet thy neighbor’s wife. Oops. Oops.

Thou shall not covet thy neighbor’s goods. Triple oops.

I don’t think they’re doing too well with the other five commandments, or the Seven Deadly Sins. Or just being the very average level of baseline decent.

At least this administration is doing one really good thing. I’ll always give credit where credit is due. Finally, it seems, we white people won’t have to apologize for being white anymore. I have to admit I’m relieved, I was really getting tired of that. How many times do I have to walk into Whole Foods, grab my cart and yell, “Hey, everyone! I am so sorry for being white!”

All I want to do is buy some overpriced nut milk and kale.

Or like, at the Post Office? When you walk in and there’s a long line and you have to take your place at the back and let everyone around you know how bad you feel for being white? And also at the DMV when they call you up and you’ve already taken your ticket and waited forty-five minutes, and now you have to apologize, too. Jeez, sorry I’m white. Oh! And in the doctor’s office in the waiting room, or like, when you get into a Lyft. It’s just crazy how many times a day we white people go around apologizing for being white, I mean it adds up to:

ZERO TIMES

In my entire life on this planet I have never been in a situation where the people in charge have given me the impression I should apologize for being white. Not in an academic setting, not in a work setting, not in a social setting, not in any setting. I grew up In New York City, and I have lived in Southern California for the last twenty-four years. I think we can agree these are two of the most liberal cities anywhere. I went to Barnard College at Columbia University. If I have never been made to feel like I should apologize for being white, please tell me where this is happening. I’ll wait.

Having said that, there have been a million times when I have felt like apologizing for being white, because of some white crapjackal in the vicinity. The older I get, the more often I do apologize for people like that because they are embarrassing. Apologizing isn’t enough, stepping in is the thing, because guess what? Just like a certain kind of man listens to other men more than they listen to women, a certain kind of white person listens to other white people more than they listen to anyone else.

There are white people who make racist jokes in public places and in places where they think it’s okay, because no Black people are around to hear, and it isn’t funny, and not laughing is not good enough. I will be the person to make it uncomfy, Beth Ann, don’t invite me next time I guess. Are these the kind of white people I want to know? Nah. But if I encounter them in the wild, yes I will get in that fray.

It is disgusting that we have a VP who has an Indian American wife and biracial children suggesting any of us should do otherwise, or pretending that white people have it hard, or that straight white men are burdened these days. Please allow me to grab the world’s tiniest violin and bust out a rendition of My Heart Bleeds for You.

Sometimes it happens online. A Black person will write something about what they wish white people would understand, or they’ll write about an experience they had, or express anger about something systemic or historical like, I dunno…slavery? And then some white person will pop up and say, not all white people, and if you want us to be allies, maybe don’t say we’re all racists!

You want to know what kind of white people get worked up about that and take it personally and feel the need to say “oh, hey, not me, I’m one of the good ones”? Or, “excuse me, sorry about slavery, but I am not responsible for what my ancestors did”? I’ll give you a hint — it isn’t the white people you want to sit next to at a wedding, and it isn’t the kind of white person you want to be.

Until more than half of white women stop voting for men who put all of us in danger, the only people we need to be responding to with our “input” or our “feelings” are other white people.

Speaking of white people you don’t want to know, it seems there are a million more Epstein documents, and we are still waiting for any modicum of justice for the survivors. It’s almost like they are going to stall and redact and stall and redact and deflect and postpone and delay and deny and gaslight and put his dumb face and name on all the buildings in the meantime. But apparently we are going to have marble armrests at the Kennedy Center, because what is better than bone against marble, really? Jesus wept.

Anyway, let’s end with some good news. It’s the week between Christmas and New Year’s which means it’s the week when no one knows what day it is and you can eat pie for breakfast. California is raising the minimum wage to $16.90 starting January 1st, with higher rates for food industry workers and healthcare workers ($20/hour). There are many cities and counties that set their own (even higher) local minimums. These are routine adjustments for inflation.

Please remember California is the 4th largest economy in the world, so when the federal government tells you it isn’t possible to raise the minimum wage because of *reasons* — those reasons are that the federal government does not care to give regular people a living wage. Or healthcare. Aw dang, I said we’d end with good news.

There are people like Fred Rogers in the world, and Elwood P. Dowd, even if he is a fictional character. There are people like George Bailey, trying to help their neighbors even if it doesn’t make sense for their “bottom line” because they know the real bottom line is what kind of person you’re being in this world, and that you can’t take any of the other stuff with you. There are people like Mary Bailey in this world, too, seeing the best in everyone, and pulling it out of them when they can’t pull it out of themselves. Fighting for them when they don’t have any fight left. Saving the day when the day needs to be saved and they can’t find their cape anymore, or it has too many holes to fly. They’re everywhere. They’re all of us. We are all neighbors. That’s the good news.

There are probably púcas, too. It wouldn’t surprise me.

So grateful for you, friends. I love you. Hang in there. We’re going to be okay.

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I recorded this episode after one of the most sorrowful weeks I can remember. I wanted to be feeling joyful because it’s the holiday season, but you can’t force joy, and it’s very difficult to live in a country where we continue to have school shootings as though there’s nothing we can do to change that.

Of all the issues we face here, that’s the one that wrecks me in a way that is hard to describe. Part of it is having school-age children myself — my son is the age the Sandy Hook kids would have been — and part of it is finding it unfathomable that anyone is willing to continue to fail our children this way. It isn’t normal that both of my children have texted me during lockdowns. It isn’t normal that we now have kids who have been in more than one school shooting.

Then there was Bondi Beach, people fleeing for their lives, parents diving into pits trying to cover their children with their own bodies. When it seemed things could not get sadder, news of the Reiners stared to emerge.

There wasn’t a way to pull holiday cheer out of the hat, friends, and if that’s what you’re looking for, stick a pin in this episode. But if you are struggling with it all and in need of a good cry, then maybe this is for you. Either way, this is not an episode for little ears. I’m sending you a lot of love.

This episode is about a time when I was four, and two kids said I was dying and I believed them. More than that, though, it’s about a person who allowed me to be scared and sad and to grieve openly. I missed my grandma. I missed my old life before my grandma died — when my mom and dad and I lived together, and I didn’t spend three nights in one apartment, four nights in another.

I missed my mom when she was happy. I missed mornings at the Jersey Shore with my grandma — my Nanny — the person whose face lit up every time she looked at me, and whose hugs where the best possible place to be. I didn’t know where Heaven was. I couldn’t tell my mom when I was scared or sad because she’d get angry. I was afraid she might decide she couldn’t handle it and leave me at her friend’s farm.

I couldn’t tell my dad how I felt because he’d flip the script and make it about him. He’d sob in my arms which was too much for me to handle at four or five or six or ten — or every year he laid his grownup problems at my feet — until I told him I couldn’t take it anymore. That didn’t happen until I was thirteen. So I stopped telling anyone, until that day when I had a nosebleed and thought I was going to die.

It’s a gift when someone lets you feel however you feel without trying to fix it, and without giving you the feeling that there’s a time limit. When they hold you tightly enough you know it’s safe to fall apart.

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